


A Day With Mr. (or Ms.) Yang

by myglassesaredirty



Category: Psych
Genre: (it doesn't last long fyi), 1980s, AU, All the stress, Anger, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Crime Fighting, Episode: s03e16 An Evening With Mr. Yang, F/M, Family Fluff, Fast Food, Father-Son Relationship, Fear, Forehead Kisses, GUYS, Gen, Giving Up, Kidnapping, More tags to be added, Parallels, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prayer, Risk Taking, Sensory Overload, Sidewalk Chalk, Stress, Suspense, actually ever, because Stressful Situations, did i tag stress? i need to tag that, everyone is muy estrasado, he's scared to death for his family, help i'm trying to write 12000 different things and i don't know when to quit, henry just.......loves his son so much, i literally don't know how to tag, i watched the episodes with the other cops that worked with henry, it's actually important which is odd, just like yang and shawn but this time it's yang and henry, like. right before i wrote this fic, this is seriously my favorite in this fandom, twisted romantic interest, uh what else have we got here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: After eluding capture and disappearing years ago, the famed Yin Yang serial killer is back, and he has challenged Henry Spencer.Henry knows how this sick bastard works. He knows that his family is at risk.





	1. A Challenge Has Been Issued

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been bUgging me to the point where I just needed to get it out. It actually started as a Maddy/Henry idea and morphed more into Shawn and Henry, but I am not one to complain about either of those relationships. It's almost entirely finished (I just have to write the epilogue), but for now: enjoy!

It’s technically his day off, and it almost stays that way.

 

Shawn runs into their bedroom before either he or Maddy can wake up, and he makes a beeline for his father, stands next to the bed, and shakes his father’s shoulder until Henry cracks open one eye and stares his son in the face.

 

“What do you want, oh son of mine?” Henry glances at the clock, and he has another hour until he has to get ready to take Shawn to school. He has a whole ‘nother hour of sleepful bliss, but, of course, Shawn decided not to let that be the case.

 

Shawn grins and climbs up on the bed. “I think I’m too sick to go to school today,” he says simply, climbing over his father’s legs to nestle between his parents.

 

Maddy pops her eyes open and props herself up on one elbow.

 

Henry rolls over onto his back, gathers his son into his arms, and pulls him to his chest. Shawn shrieks and giggles, squirming as soon as his father unleashes the tickles. “Oh, really?” Henry asks, tickling Shawn’s ribs and armpits. Shawn gasps for mercy in between laughter, but Henry ignores the pleas. “You seem alright to me.”

 

Shawn wiggles out of his father’s grip and slides down the bed, tilting his head all the way back to stare up at his father. “That’s not fair.”

 

Henry grins at him and ruffles Shawn’s hair. “You have too much energy for you to be sick.”

 

Shawn sticks out his tongue, moves to all fours, and crawls his way over to his mother’s side. Henry smirks when Maddy rolls over onto her left side, prepared for her son to pop up at her side and beg to skip school. “Hey, Mom, I –”

 

“No.”

 

Shawn stops and stares up at her with wide eyes. “No?” he echoes, still on all fours. Henry absently thinks he looks a little bit like Bambi. “But why?”

 

Maddy purses her lips and quirks an eyebrow. “What’s your temperature?”

 

Shawn ducks his head but still keeps his eyes on his mother. “118.5,” he says hesitantly, glancing to his father to make sure that he didn’t go too hard.

 

Henry starts laughing and covers his eyes with his forearm. He knows that Shawn’s looking at him quizzically, and he can feel Maddy elbow him in the ribs, but man. Shawn really went hard for that. “Shawn, you can’t have a 118 degree fever.”

 

Shawn lifts his chin in defiance. “Yes, you can! I do!”

 

Henry throws off the covers, grabs his gray robe, and walks around to Maddy’s side of the bed. Shaking his head, he bends down, picks Shawn up, and starts walking out of the bedroom. “You would be dead by now, Shawn.”

 

Shawn opens his mouth to argue, but then he re-evaluates his father. “Really?”

 

Henry nods once to emphasize his point. “Really. Your body starts dying at 107 degrees.”

 

Shawn’s jaw drops. “How do you know that?”

 

Henry shrugs one shoulder. “I have a friend who’s a doctor.” He looks back over his shoulder. “Honey, are you coming down? I’m about to make pancakes!” He looks back to his son and narrows his eyes, a smile dancing in his eyes. “Blueberry or chocolate chip? Pineapple isn’t an option.”

 

Shawn is absolutely affronted. “But pineapple pancakes are the best!”

 

“Shawn, pineapple pancakes suck.”

 

Shawn crosses his arms and pouts. “Blueberry.”

 

Henry looks back over his shoulder. “They’re blueberry pancakes, as per Shawn’s request!”

 

Once they step into the kitchen, Henry sets Shawn down and lets his son zoom around the kitchen. He thinks he hears something about being an explorer in a foreign land. While Shawn plays in the living room, Henry gets to work making the pancakes.

 

About five minutes in, Maddy plods down the stairs, tying her pink robe. Her hair is soft and fluffy, just like it usually is, and she wears the pink fuzzy socks Shawn bought her for Christmas. She shuffles over to Henry’s side and gives him a peck on the lips. “Morning.” She smiles lazily, her eyes half-lidded.

 

Henry smiles back and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “And a very good morning to you, honey.” He mixes the batter. “Did you already do your hundred brushes?”

 

Maddy shrugs. “Listen, I need a solid five minutes to myself everyday. Brushing my hair will get me that five minutes.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Maddy retreats to the living room to help Shawn in his escapades (apparently, he’s no longer an explorer, but rather a gypsy learning the ways of American people). Henry dollops six scoops of batter onto the pancake griddle, grabs the bowl of blueberries, and drops a few into each of the pancakes. He can overhear some of the conversation going on in the living room, and he’s glad that he has the day off, but he’s _not_ happy that Shawn has to go to school and Maddy has to go to work. Maybe he will call the school and tell them that Shawn is sick.

 

He flips the pancakes, wipes his hands on the kitchen towel, and stands guard in front of the blueberries when Shawn comes running back in. Henry holds the bowl of blueberries high above his head, and Shawn jumps up, barely coming up to Henry’s chest. “Son, you’ll ruin your appetite, and I worked hard on these!”

 

Shawn changes his course of action and aims for his father’s arm. “But you keep telling me I need to eat healthy! This is healthy!”

 

“You can have blueberries after you eat your pancakes!”

 

Maddy silently takes over the pancake-making process and slides the now-finished pancakes from the griddle and onto three different plates. “Shawn, sweetie,” she says gently, “go get your juice.”

 

Shawn shrugs, turns away from his father, and pulls the orange juice out of the refrigerator. “Mom, we’re out of pineapple juice.”

 

She sets each of the plates on the kitchen table and walks up to his side, ruffling his hair. “I’ll make sure to stop by the grocery store and pick some up after work.” Henry passes her a glass, and she unscrews the carton of orange juice and starts pouring.

 

Shawn takes the glass of orange juice and hurries to his spot, anxiously waiting for his dad to bring the syrup. Henry stands next to Shawn and pours the syrup, carefully watching to make sure that too much doesn’t come out.

 

Shawn groans. “Why don’t you ever let me pour my own maple syrup?”

 

Henry stops pouring and straightens the bottle of maple syrup. “Mostly because you’d put way too much on in the first place and give yourself a sugar high.” He glances at Maddy, who’s in the process of pouring both her and Henry some coffee. “Secondly, you know I pour it perfectly.”

 

Shawn stabs his fork into the pancakes and takes his first heavenly bite. “You’re right, Dad, you do always pour it right.”

 

Henry shoots him a look. “Shawn, wait until your mother gets here.” He processes what Shawn just said and glares at him. “Then why do you complain about me doing it every time?”

 

Shawn grins mischievously at him. “Because it riles you up.”

 

Henry rolls his eyes. Maddy passes him his mug of coffee, complete with one cream. “Thank you,” he says, his eyes following her as she sits down next to him. He’s just about to dig into his own creation when the telephone rings.

 

Maddy glances around the table. “Who could that be this early in the morning?”

 

Henry pats her hand. “I’ll get it. It’s probably the station, anyways. They’re the only ones who ever call this early.” He stands up, groaning at the effort it takes to get up (he may be thirty-one, but he’s still young, okay? He can complain about how he shouldn’t be having old man pain), and lifts the phone out of its cradle. “Spencer residence.”

 

“Henry, get your ass down here. I’m not asking.”

 

Henry furrows his brow and glances at his family. “Herb, it’s my day off. I’m supposed to take my son to school today.”

 

Herb sighs heavily, and Henry just _knows,_ even without being there, that he’s running a hand through what’s left of his hair. “Mr. Yang has issued a challenge, Henry. You’re his foe.”

 

Henry stops breathing.

 

The room seems smaller, somehow, like it keeps shrinking in on itself. The floor dips and spins, and Henry has to press a hand to the wall to steady himself. “What?” he asks, and he knows that his voice is small, that Shawn and Maddy have stopped eating, and that Shawn is looking at him funnily because why does his dad sound so scared, no, that can’t be, his dad is supposed to be _brave_ –

 

“Mr. Yang challenged you, Henry. He dropped off a picture of you and an old high school classmate of yours…Jacob Lewboski. Ring any bells?”

 

Henry’s mouth is completely dry, and he sways a little bit. He feels someone’s hand on his shoulder, and he vaguely recognizes that someone is trying to talk to him. He gulps, and his hands tremble. “That– that was my best friend from high school.” He closes his eyes for a second. “Who’s the victim?”

 

Herb pauses. “A Mrs. Armond called in a missing persons report, thinking her son was kidnapped. He’s a high schooler, and he didn’t show up to breakfast, and he’s not at school. Henry, we need you. Without you, he doesn’t stand a chance.”

 

Henry shakes his head emphatically. “No, _no,”_ he says, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His son has never seen him cry. He’s damn well not going to start crying now. He sniffles and rubs his nose with his free hand. “Herb, it’s my day off, I can’t –”

 

There’s a loud sound on the other end, like Herb hit his desk as hard as he could with his hand. Henry jumps. “Dammit, Henry! This isn’t a choice that any of us get to make! Either you get your ass down to the station as fast as fucking possible, or I _will_ arrest you for obstructing justice!”

 

Henry’s hand curls around the telephone. His breaths are shallow and come quickly. “Herb, you don’t understand,” he whispers. “I have a family. If Yang really is back, and if he’s challenged _me,_ I need to protect them first.” He sniffles again and licks his lips. “My son has school today. I need to protect him, and he won’t– there’s no way to protect him there. And…and _Madeleine,_ she’s working, and I just need her to be safe, Herb, you don’t get it –”

 

Someone tugs at Henry’s robe, and he looks down to see Shawn staring up at him with wide eyes. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

 

Maddy looks at Henry apologetically and moves from Henry’s side to kneel by Shawn. “Nothing,” she says, pulling Shawn close to her. She cradles Shawn’s head, carefully turning his face away from Henry. “It’s just some work stuff. Daddy has a big case that he needs to take care of.”

 

On the other end of the line, Herb sighs again. “Listen, Henry, I get it. You have a family you need to protect, but they’re safest doing what they need to do. I’ll send a couple of officers out to Shawn’s school, and I’ll make sure one is posted outside his classroom at all times. Madeleine works at the station. There’s no place she could be safer. Please, Henry. We need your help.” He hangs up, and Henry stares at the wall for a moment before he carefully places the phone back in its cradle.

 

Maddy searches Henry’s eyes for any answer. Shawn pulls away from his mother’s embrace to see what’s wrong with his father.

 

Henry sighs tiredly and runs a hand through his hair. “Yang is back,” he says, absently staring at the kitchen table. They should have been having a nice breakfast, like they do on Saturdays, except it’s Wednesday, but Shawn remedied that by waking them up an hour earlier. They should have been enjoying their extra time together. Henry shakes his head. “Yang is back,” he repeats, “and he challenged me.”

 

Maddy gasps. “Oh my God.”

 

Shawn looks between his two parents. “Who’s Yang?”

 

Henry shakes his head again, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. “What if I lose, Mad?”

 

Maddy stands up, cups Henry’s face in both of her hands, and gently forces him to look at her. “Henry,” she says firmly, “listen to me. You _won’t_ lose. You won’t let that happen.”

 

Henry smiles bitterly. “Mad, I don’t make the rules in this game. I either keep Yang interested enough to play, or the kid is dead. End of story.”

 

Maddy pulls back and searches Henry’s eyes. “The victim is a minor?”

 

Henry nods and scrubs his hand over his face. “Yeah.”

 

“Oh my God.”

 

Shawn stomps his foot, and both Maddy’s and Henry’s eyes snap to him. “No one answered my question! Who is Yang?”

 

Henry feels his throat tighten, and he kneels in front of his son. “Yang is a very, very bad man. You know those criminals you’ve seen me interrogate?”

 

Shawn nods.

 

“He’s worse, Shawn. He kidnaps people, threatens to kill them, and challenges a detective or cop to save the victim. No one has ever won. The last time, the detective who went up against him went farther than anyone before, but he lost, and an innocent girl died.”

 

Shawn searches his father’s eyes. “Why are you so scared about Mom and me?” he asks simply.

 

Henry smiles tearfully at him and kisses Shawn’s forehead. “Because,” he says, running his hand through Shawn’s hair, “Yang did his research on me. He knows who I am, and he knows about everyone I care about. He might use you two as bait.” He pulls his son into a hug and holds him protectively. “And he knows I can’t protect you while you’re at school.”

 

Maddy squeezes Henry’s shoulder. “Henry, you need to get down to the station. You’re already running out of time.”

 

Henry nods, kisses Shawn’s temple, and stands. Before he can head back up the stairs, Maddy grabs his hands and looks him in the eyes. “I’m terrified, Henry.”

 

Henry nods and kisses her. It’s not a kiss of passion or even particularly romantic, but he needs her to know how much he loves her in case this thing goes south. She seems to understand, and he can taste her tears on her lips. “I love you,” he says to her, and he looks to Shawn, who is trying very hard to seem brave. He bends down, cups Shawn’s chin, and makes sure Shawn’s looking him in the eyes. “I love you, Shawn. More than words can say.”

 

Tears fill Shawn’s eyes, but Shawn presses his lips together and nods. “I love you, too, Dad.”

 

Henry looks up at the staircase, and today, it seems longer than ever.


	2. Being a Badass at In-'N-Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hates this. He absolutely loathes it. He just wants to pick up his son, hold him in his arms, go home, and pretend like none of this ever happened.
> 
> But it is happening, and he's right in the middle of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you. I told you all that I was writing ahead, and now I'm completely finished with this one, so there will be a regular posting schedule for this specific fic. I'm working on two others right now (actually, I'm working on one, I'm firmly convinced I'll do another later), but just know: this is rare for me.
> 
> Who knew that Psych would end up being my responsible fandom?

Henry wanted to take Shawn to school, but Maddy held firm and told him to get to the station as soon as possible. He drums a beat on the steering wheel and glances around the city of Santa Barbara for any form of suspicious behavior. There is some, though it’s mostly just teenagers playing hooky or businessmen having affairs. There’s nothing that indicates “sociopathic serial killer” to him on the drive that takes him to the police station.

 

He’s driven it so many times in his life that he could get to the station with his eyes closed. The drive is generally very short, almost like the blink of an eye, but today, it drags on, and he prays to God that Yang will just call it all off before he gets in.

 

When he walks into the station, he is immediately greeted by a gray cloud of tension. Every officer who walks around the station places their hands on their belts, tapping the buckle with their thumbs. The detectives sit on desks, pace, or fidget. No one can sit or stand still.

 

Jack catches him first and jerks his head over to the bullpen. The chief glances at his watch every few seconds, and Jack leads Henry into the bullpen. “Chief,” he says, and, though his voice is quiet, it cuts through the entire station as if he’s holding a microphone. “Henry’s here.”

 

Herb looks up and breathes a sigh of relief. “We got our first clue, Henry.” He hands him a picture of a note. It’s not handwritten, of course; Yang is too smart for that. The note is typed with a typewriter, and Henry scans it. “‘Here I sit with a shake in hand / Laughing with an old friend. / I admit, the fries here are bland / But I talk and laugh as if this isn’t the end.’” He looks up and studies the station. “What does he mean?”

 

“Henry,” Boone says clearly. His voice is stronger than Jack’s, but Henry feels like he’s yelling. “You know this game. The first clue is the most obvious.”

 

Henry stares harder at the note. “I– I don’t know,” he admits.

 

Herb takes the note from him. “Think, Henry. What have you done in the past 24 hours?”

 

Henry licks his lips. “Yesterday, it was just a normal day. I dropped Shawn off at the Gusters’ before school so I could get here. I worked a drug case, clocked out at 6:30, went home to my family.”

 

“Was there anything different about yesterday?”

 

Henry furrows his eyebrows and concentrates on Herb’s shoes. “At about eight, Jacob called and asked if I wanted to catch up. I said sure and met him at In-’N-Out.” His eyes widen, and he looks up at Herb. “He- he said his fries were bland.”

 

Herb nods and claps Henry’s shoulder. “That’s great! Which In-’N-Out was this?”

 

“The one close to First Baptist.”

 

“Everyone, you heard him! We have just over an hour to solve this and get the next clue!” Herb points to Boone and Peters. “You two, go with Henry to the restaurant. Jack, I want you to go with them as well.”

 

Jack grabs Henry’s arm, and Henry wants to pull his arm away, wants to bury his face in his hands and scream. “Henry,” Jack whispers, leading him out of the station, “treat this as you would any other kidnapping.”

 

The fabric of Henry’s shirt scratches against his skin. His collarbone is red from the way it keeps rubbing against him, and no matter how he shifts, no matter what he does to his shirt, it still keeps rubbing. “He took a teenager, Jack. He was following me. That means he knows about my family.”

 

Jack smiles apologetically at him. “But he doesn’t have your wife or son. That has to count for something, right?”

 

Henry shakes his head, opens the cruiser door, and slides into the passenger side. “Just because he doesn’t have them now doesn’t mean he won’t take them.”

 

Jack sticks the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life. Henry wants to clamp his hands over his ears because it’s  _ loud, _ everything is so  _ loud. _ Jack’s voice is loud. The hum of the engine is loud. The birds chirping away are loud. He needs silence.

 

Jack licks his lips. “Yang’s never played like that before. It’s always been one victim.”

 

Henry shakes his head again. “No,” he says. “Yang got the title of serial killer for a reason. He kidnapped four people in the span of two weeks, two of which were in the same day. All of them were murdered.” Henry pulls at the collar of his t-shirt because he wants to feel like he’s able to breathe again. “There are no rules to this game. He’ll do whatever he can to make it as interesting as possible for him. If that means kidnapping everyone I care about, then he’ll do it. If that means he has to –” Henry stops and stares straight ahead. Tears prick at his eyes again, and the lump has returned. “If that means he has to kill my wife and/or my son,” he whispers, “that son of a bitch will do it.”

 

Jack twists his lips, unsure of how to reassure Henry when Henry is clearly right. “Herb sent Lou and Jerry to Shawn’s school, along with a couple other officers to guard the entrances. Shawn is as safe as he can be.”

 

Henry laughs bitterly. “Shawn isn’t safe,” he says, shaking his head in bitter amusement. “As long as Yang is out there, Shawn won’t be safe.” He closes his eyes and exhales shakily. “I just need my little boy to be safe, y’know?”

 

Jack nods. “I know. But, Henry, Shawn has two people that he knows well and is familiar with protecting him. Madeleine has an entire station willing to lay down their lives for her. Your family is the safest family in Santa Barbara right at this moment.”

 

Henry slams his hand on the dashboard, and Jack flinches in response. “You don’t  _ get _ it, Jack!  _ I’m _ not there to protect them! That’s my family! I’m Maddy’s husband, and I’m Shawn’s father!  _ I _ should be the one protecting them,  _ not _ everyone else!” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and presses his back into the passenger seat. “I’m a trained cop. I can protect anyone, but it’s especially handy to be a cop when you need to protect your family. But right now, I don’t want to protect anyone else or anyone else’s family. I just want to be there for my own.”

 

Jack stares at the road and nods slowly. “Henry, I don’t know how you’re feeling, but I understand what you’re saying. I wish we could just tell you to go ahead, get out of the county, and protect your family, but Yang challenged  _ you. _ We need you.”

 

Henry pulls his hands away from his eyes, sniffs, and turns his head to look out the window. “I was having breakfast with my family when Herb called. Blueberry pancakes, as per Shawn’s request.” He lifts the corner of his mouth in a small half-smile. “He was playing pretend while I made the pancakes.”

 

Jack doesn’t know how to respond, so he remains quiet, and the rest of the drive passes in silence. The city is fairly dead. Moms shop for groceries or clothes, some people have the day off and make the most of it, and there are a handful of teenagers who decided to skip school. He follows Peters and Boone to In-’N-Out, and they pull into the parking lot.

 

Henry gets out of the car immediately and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t wait for Peters or Boone to take the lead; he just marches straight into the restaurant, flashes his badge at the counter, and asks for the manager. The manager walks out, confused, and comes to greet the police officers.

 

“Officer Henry Spencer,” he says, showing the manager his badge. As he puts his badge away, he hooks his thumb at Peters and Boone. “Those are detectives Boone and Peters, and this –” he hooks his other thumb at Jack “– is Officer Atwater. We got a missing persons case earlier about a kid named Eric Armond. Does he work here?”

 

Boone and Peters stare at Henry in silent wonder, amazed that he knew the name of the kid in question without glancing at the case report. Jack knows better, and he’s well aware that Henry learned the kid’s name to make him feel more like a human person instead of just a cashier.

 

The manager nods. “Yes, Officer. Eric Armond works here, but I don’t understand –”

 

Henry rests his hands on the countertop. “Dirty blonde hair, green eyes, lots of acne?” He waits for the manager to nod, and then Henry jerks his head towards the back. “Do you have lockers, or something?”

 

The manager shakes his head. “No…since a lot of our employees are students, we just ask that our employees come in their uniform…” He looks at the detectives. “I’m sorry, is it legal for him to ask those questions?”

 

Boone nods. “He has cause, sir. We need to find this kid. His life might be at stake.”

 

The manager sighs and looks back to Henry. “We don’t have lockers, and employees don’t generally get breaks.”

 

Henry squints at the manager. “Are you short-staffed right now?”

 

The manager’s eyes grow wide, and he shoots a glance at the detectives. “How- how did you know?”

 

Henry shrugs. “You have a high school kid working late on a school night. So I’m guessing he clocked out close to midnight? Would I be right in assuming that?”

 

The manager hangs his head. “Yes, you’re right.”

 

Henry nods and stares at the wall, his eyes tracing the tile. “That gives us about a thirty minute window for this kid to have gotten kidnapped, or for him to run away.” He shakes the manager’s hand. “Does he have a favorite parking spot?”

 

**

 

Henry bought Shawn some sidewalk chalk as a way to draw on a much larger canvas than the normal piece of paper without destroying Henry’s walls. Shawn loves the green chalk the most, and he’s worn it to a nub.

 

That nubby piece of green chalk lies in front of Eric’s favorite parking spot along with a ticking stopwatch. The handwriting is shaky, clearly written with the person’s non-dominant hand. However, despite its messiness, Henry can’t help but think that it could be a woman’s handwriting.

 

While Peters and Boone kneel next to the parking space, Boone reaching for his gloves to turn off the watch, Jack licks his lips and reads the note. “‘Good job, Officer Spencer, you got the first clue done! / Too bad you couldn’t figure it out before. / You must realize by now that you have to tell a mother about her lost son. / I wish I could be there when you knock on that door. Love, Yang.’” He looks around at his fellow officers. “Is this a clue?”

 

Henry stares at the chalk and shakes his head. “No. It’s a taunt. A congratulations, of sorts. We got the first clue right.” Henry points to the handwriting. “Look at how he wrote the d’s and the y’s. The loops in the handwriting.” He looks at Boone and Peters. “That’s a woman’s handwriting.”

 

Boone and Peters examine the handwriting. “It’s too messy to be a woman’s handwriting, Henry.”

 

“Clearly, you’ve never seen how my wife writes. I have better handwriting than her.”

 

“That’s unfortunate,” Jack murmurs.

 

“My point is that we’ve profiled Yang wrong all these years, or that he has a female partner.” Henry winces and bounces on the balls of his feet. “The problem is that this was clearly written with her non-dominant hand. See how shaky the letters are formed? That’s not going to match up with anything we could find now.” He glances at the chalk and clenches his teeth. “And bag that damn chalk. It’s evidence. We won’t find any useful prints on it, though.”

 

Peters reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out latex gloves, and carefully slips them on. “Bag,” he says to Boone. To Henry, he says, “What do you mean we won’t find any  _ useful _ prints on the chalk?”

 

Henry glares at Peters. “That’s my son’s chalk. I know because that is about the same size nub as it was two days ago, and Shawn complained about not being able to find his chalk.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“When you run it for prints, I can guarantee you’ll find Shawn’s. He’s eight. That doesn’t help you.” Henry stops, straightens his shoulders, and looks around. “Unless…”

 

“What? What do you mean? Why are you saying that?” Boone stands up and glares at Henry. “We need to get back to the station, get our next clue, and see how much time we have to find the next clue.”

 

Henry shakes his head. “We don’t need that clue, and I’ll bet money on it. You two can go to the station, but the clue is going to point to Shawn’s elementary school, and I’d bet it’s going to be found in Shawn’s homeroom or art class.”

 

Jack winces. “Henry, look, I get that you’re worried about your son, but you’re finding things that aren’t even there –”

 

“I’m right, Jack.”

 

“You got all of this from a piece of  _ chalk! _ What if you’re wrong?”

 

Henry’s eyes snap to Jack. “And what if I am, Jack? If we split into groups, we’ll be more efficient.”

 

Boone shakes his head. “No, no, no,  _ no. _ That’s not how Yang plays, Henry. Either we all go, or the game is over.”

 

Henry grits his teeth, grabs a piece of gravel, and throws it as far as he can. “You guys aren’t  _ getting _ it! Yang challenged me, and me alone! As long as I’m playing the game, he’s good! The game keeps going, and Eric is alive!” He turns to Boone and Peters and takes a step forward. “Listen, this guy has been following me for a while. I don’t know how he knew I was going to be here last night, but he did. He knows that I have a family. He has a piece of my son’s chalk, and I would bet anything that he knows where my son goes to school. He might even know my son’s name! But I know I’m right. If you all think I’m wrong, that’s great, but I’m going to check the school angle first.”

 

The other officers all look at each other. Jack runs a hand through his hair. “How do you know it’s Shawn’s school, Henry? How do you know it’s not Eric’s?”

 

Henry nods to the nubby piece of chalk in the bag that Boone’s holding, puts on his sunglasses, and starts walking back to the cruiser. “How many high schools do you know of that use chalk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews are appreciated!


	3. Back To School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry Spencer swings by Shawn's school, just to make sure he's safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had a reminder set on my phone to post this chapter, but my phone must have deleted it, so it's up a little later than normal, but the important thing is that it's here.

Jack doesn’t know why in the world he gave Henry the keys to the cruiser. He figured it would take less time to get to the school if Henry drove, mostly because Henry knows every possible route to get to the school, but Henry flips on the sirens, floors the gas pedal, and weaves between the traffic while Boone and Peters follow.

 

Jack leans back in his seat as much as possible and braces on hand on the dashboard and the other on the door. “Henry, slow down!”

 

“Who knows how much time we have left?”

 

“I don’t know! All I know is that it’s not very wise to kill yourself before you can win the game!” The radio crackles, and Jack grabs it. “What? What is it?”

 

“Tell Henry to slow down! We can’t keep up with him!”

 

“I did! He isn’t slowing down!”

 

“Herb won’t be happy about this, Henry!”

 

Henry shrugs one shoulder and keeps his eyes on the road. “Who says he has to know?”

 

“He caught you running a red light!”

 

Henry lifts his foot off the gas pedal and purses his lips. “I suppose that’s fair.” He lets the car slow to 55 mph and then continues at a constant speed. “I’m staying at 55, though.”

 

“Forty-five.”

 

“Fifty.”

 

Boone sighs. “Deal. Herb contacted us. They got the stopwatch after we left, and we have another forty-five minutes to find the next clue. How long will it take us to get to the school, Henry?”

 

Henry grins. “A solid thirty seconds.” He slows down in the school zone (yes, all the way down to twenty – he might be scared out of his mind for his son, but he doesn’t want to kill someone else’s kid in the process) and pulls into the parking lot. He throws the cruiser into park. “Shawn’s already in class, but the younger grades aren’t in yet.”

 

Jack opens his door and runs after Henry. “Isn’t Shawn in third grade?”

 

Henry nods. “Yeah,” he says simply. “Third grade and up start at 9 o’clock. Second and younger start at 9:45.” He blows out a breath of hot air, waves to the officers guarding the front doors, and whispers, “Please, God, let him not have a sub today. If everything else has to go to shit, let him be safe.”

 

Even Boone and Peters can’t keep up with Henry without running, despite the fact that Henry is merely walking quickly down the halls. He glances at the signs next to the doors, but he shakes his head every time until he gets to Mrs. Harris’ room. Without Henry, Boone, Peters, and Jack would have known it was Shawn’s homeroom because Lou stands guard in front of the door. Henry knows because he memorized his son’s schedule.

 

Henry knocks once on the door, and, without waiting for an invitation, he opens the door. When he sees that it is, in fact, Mrs. Harris, he grimaces. “I’m really sorry about this, Mrs. Harris, but we have a major situation –”

 

Mrs. Harris holds up her hand and smiles understandingly at Henry. “Officer Carp explained what was going on to me.” She glances at her class and comes closer to Henry. “Are the kids in any danger? Should we send them home?”

 

Henry licks his lips and shakes his head. “We don’t know, ma’am. I just know that there’s a clue here at the school somewhere, and I’m trying to figure out where.” He smiles at her. “Your students will be safe. You have four officers at the school the whole time.” He looks at the class, and he sees Shawn wiggling in his seat, bursting with anticipation at the fact that his dad is here. “Hey, Shawn!”

 

Shawn pops up from his chair and runs for his father, throwing his arms around Henry. Henry grins, pulls Shawn off of him, and kneels, spreading his arms wide. “How do you expect me to give you a hug if I can’t hug you back?”

 

Shawn smiles, wrinkling his nose in the process, and throws his arms around Henry’s neck. “Did you get him yet?”

 

Henry sighs heavily and presses his hand to Shawn’s back, holding him closer. “Not yet, son, but the victim is still alive.” He ruffles Shawn’s hair. “Have you had art class today?”

 

Shawn shakes his head and pulls away. “Nope! We don’t have art today, Dad, remember? It’s only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

 

Henry purses his lips and nods. “Right. I must have forgotten.”

 

“Dad, you’ve never forgotten that before.” Shawn’s concern vanishes almost as fast as it came, and he grabs his father’s hand and drags him toward his desk. “Come look at this! It’s a poem!”

 

Henry smiles fondly and rolls his eyes, following his son back to his desk. “Oh, really? Is it yours?”

 

Shawn shakes his head and grins. “Nope!” he says loudly, passing his father a piece of paper, complete with magazine clippings. “But some lady gave it to me.”

 

Henry stops smiling, and he looks sharply at his son. “What did you just say?”

 

Shawn shrinks away from his father and glances around at his friends. “I- I said that some lady gave it to me.”

 

Henry places the poem back on the desk – he still hasn’t looked at it, but Shawn has something here, Shawn could be the missing piece in the puzzle – and kneels in front of Shawn again. “Did you know this lady?”

 

Shawn shakes his head slowly at first and then quickly. “N-no. I didn’t remember her. She said she knew me.”

 

Henry grips Shawn’s shoulders. “Did she give you a name? Did you ask?”

 

Shawn looks at his father and tilts his head. “She didn’t give me her name. I just thanked her for the poem.”

 

“Where was your mother?”

 

“Mom wasn’t there. It was, like, ten minutes after she had dropped me off. Uncle Lou and Uncle Jerry had just showed up.”

 

Henry looks over his shoulder and locks eyes with Jack. “Ask Lou or Jerry when they got here.”

 

Jack nods, opens the door, and whispers the question. Once he gets an answer, he steps back in the room. “He said they got here at about 8:45. What time do you usually drop off Shawn?”

 

Henry’s hands are trembling again. Shawn notices. No one else does. “Dad?”

 

Henry licks his lips. “We usually drop Shawn off around 8:30 or 8:35. Maddy was already heading to work.”

 

Shawn grips his father’s wrist and gently tugs. “Dad, are you okay?”

 

Henry licks his lips and cups Shawn’s face in his hands, pulling him close. “I’m fine,” he says, pressing a kiss to Shawn’s forehead, classmates and teasing be damned. He’s a cop, but he still gets scared, and he hasn’t felt terror like he has now. “Do you remember anything else about the lady? What she looked like, what she was wearing?” He leans closer. “Could you tell if she was wearing a wig or makeup?”

 

Shawn sniffs and rubs his nose. “She had black hair. It was curly, but not how Mom curls her hair. It was, like, wet and stringy almost. Kinda matted. Her eyes were really dark brown, and her skin was pretty pale.” Shawn points to one of his classmates. “Like Josh’s skin. Not, like,  _ super _ pale, but not tan.”

 

“Think, Shawn. Do you have anything else?”

 

Shawn closes his eyes tightly. “She definitely wasn’t wearing a wig, but she was wearing makeup. Her eyeshadow – I think? Something on her eyes – was blue, and she had that dark pink lip gloss.” His eyes snap open, and he grins lopsidedly. “Her shirt was mustard yellow. I remember ‘cause I thought she was wearing the perfect shirt just in case she spilled mustard on herself later today. And, uh, she was wearing a long black skirt. Oh! And she had gloves. Lacey white gloves.”

 

Boone and Peters stand at Henry’s sides and write down the information as fast as possible. “Could you identify her again if you saw her, kid?” Boone asks.

 

Shawn looks up at him and nods quickly. “Oh, yeah, definitely.” He discreetly grabs the paper. “Is this important, though?”

 

Peters snatches it out of Shawn’s hands, and Shawn jumps. Henry hugs him again and listens for what Peters is about to read.

 

“‘Well, well, well, Mr. Spencer, you dotted your i’s and crossed your t’s! / I must say, I am quite impressed. / However, you won’t be quick enough to catch me / When you meet me, make sure you’re dressed your best.’” He nearly crumples the paper, but he passes it to Boone to bag. “What does this  _ mean?” _

 

Henry still has his hands on Shawn’s shoulders, and he thinks through everything that makes any sense. “There’s always another clue at the station, right?”

 

Boone shakes his head. “No, there’s  _ sometimes _ another clue at the station. When we get the clue, we get the stopwatch.”

 

Shawn’s eyes widen and he pulls away from his father.

 

“Shawn?” Henry asks, lifting his head to see what his son is digging for in his backpack. “What have you got there?”

 

“A stopwatch,” Shawn repeats. He turns around and holds out a stopwatch, still ticking away. “You mean like this?”

 

**

 

“The clue is in here somewhere!”

 

“This  _ is _ the clue!”

 

“Maybe if we run it for prints…”

 

Henry leans against the wall outside of Shawn’s classroom and stares at the stopwatch, watching as the numbers wind down, and rubs his thumb over his bottom lip. This is the point where every other detective has lost. It’s always been on the third clue.

 

“Magazines,” he whispers, pushing himself off the wall. “The clues are in how it’s  _ written, _ not just in what it says! Typewriter to menu, chalk to elementary school, magazines to something else!”

 

Peters smiles grimly at Henry. “That’s all fine and dandy, Henry, but where do you see magazines? Doctor’s offices?”

 

Henry shakes his head. “Let me see that again,” he says, reaching for the poem. There’s no use in running it for prints now. He takes the paper and examines the letters. “These are all part of a fashion magazine.”

 

“‘You won’t be quick enough to catch me,’” Jack quotes. “This, coupled with the stopwatches? I’d say his next stop is Finish Line.”

 

Henry’s hand curls into a fist, and he has to resist sending his fist into the wall. “No, that’s not it. It’s too obvious while also being too much of a reach. ‘Dressed your best’ is the key.”

 

“Well, there’s an entire mall we could go through, but we don’t have  _ time,” _ Boone says. He nods to the stopwatch. “What does it say?”

 

Henry re-reads the poem again, but for the first time, he catches the tip of a flower and a small part of a stem. He looks up, rolls his eyes, and presses the poem to Boone’s chest. “It’s from bridal magazines. Our next stop is Joseph A. Banks.”

 

“You’re sure, Henry?”

 

“Positive.” He jerks his head towards the building entrance. “Listen, I’m going to say goodbye to my son, and then we’ll head out.”

 

“Henry, we only have an hour or so left.”

 

Henry stops at the door and shrugs. “I know. But I need to say goodbye to my son.” He knocks on the door and quietly opens it when he hears Mrs. Harris’ “come in.” He pokes his head in the room, waves to Gus, and looks for Shawn. “Shawn? Buddy, we have to get going.”

 

Shawn nods and stares at his desk.

 

Mrs. Harris furrows her brow. “Shawn? Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your father?”

 

Shawn shakes his head, sniffles, and rubs his nose.

 

Henry’s shoulders fall, and he starts to pull the door closed. “Well. We’re running out of time, so I’ve– I’ve gotta get going.”

 

Mrs. Harris sets her ruler on her desk, shoots Henry a look, and marches over to Shawn’s desk. “Shawn, go say goodbye to your father.”

 

Shawn looks up at Mrs. Harris, and his cheeks are stained with tear paths. “No.”

 

Henry sighs heavily, steps inside the classroom, and holds up a hand. “I’ve got this, Mrs. Harris.” He kneels next to Shawn’s desk. “It’s not your fault, bud.”

 

Shawn shakes his head. “That’s not it.”

 

Henry furrows his brow. “Then what is it?”

 

Shawn’s bottom lip wobbles, and his hazel eyes fill with tears. “Are you coming back home tonight?”

 

Henry’s eyes widen in understanding, and he pulls Shawn close to him. Shawn buries his face in his father’s shoulder and cries openly. “I’m coming home, son. No matter what, I’m coming home tonight. I’ll be just fine.”

 

“Don’t go,” Shawn whispers. “Stay here. You’re safe here.”

 

Henry closes his eyes and holds Shawn closer. “Shawn, I can’t stay here. If I stay here, an innocent person dies.”

 

Shawn shakes his head. “But he’s not my dad. Stay  _ here.” _

 

Henry rubs Shawn’s back. “I can’t stay here, Shawn. But you better promise me that you will until your mother comes to pick you up. Is that clear?”

 

Shawn nods and moves one hand from around Henry’s neck to wipe at his eyes. “I’ll stay here until Mom picks me up.”

 

Henry ruffles Shawn’s hair and kisses his temple. “I’ve got to go, son, but I promise, I’ll see you later tonight.”

 

“Are Mom and I safe, Dad?”

 

Henry pulls away from the hug, and he prays that Shawn can’t see the tears that keep trying to show up in Henry’s eyes. “Of course you are, Shawn. Why would you think otherwise?”

 

“Because you’re scared.”

 

Henry sniffles, stands, and ruffles Shawn’s hair again. “Yang is just getting to me.” He smiles at Shawn, and he hopes that it’s convincing. “I love you, buddy.”

 

Shawn nods. “I love you, too, Daddy.”

 

Henry smiles once more at his son, turns away, and walks out the door. He prays that none of the kids notice how he swipes at his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I update this twice a week? I kind of want to move it to twice a week, but I don't know.
> 
> As always, reviews are appreciated!


	4. Bluff (Better Hope No One Dies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get their next clue, but something doesn't sit right with Henry. How in the world does Yang know when to start the timers? He has to be with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *claps gleefully* this is probably my favorite chapter that I've written. I can't say anything because spoilers but just know that this is seriously my favorite chapter that I've ever written.
> 
> Whatever you expected, it's worse. It's so much worse.

Jack rests his wrist on the steering wheel and stares straight ahead. Henry rubs his nose and keeps his eyes trained out the window. Jack licks his lips. “If the clue is from bridal magazines,” he says slowly, “then shouldn’t we be heading to a bridal store?”

 

Henry shakes his head. “No. Well, it shouldn’t mean that we go to a bridal store. The clue was directed at me, so that I would be ‘dressed my best’ when I meet Yang. I can’t fit into a wedding dress.” He shrugs and scratches his head. “Besides, we don’t have any good bridal stores here in Santa Barbara.”

 

“We do so,” Jack responds, looking over at Henry and frowning.

 

Henry rolls his eyes. “ _ Building _ a bridal store is not  _ having _ a bridal store, Jack. We  _ do _ have a Joseph A. Banks, so that’s where we’re going.”

 

“And what if you’re wrong, Henry?”

 

Henry’s brain buzzes, and his heart speeds up. He can feel his heart drumming against his chest, flipping and fluttering. “Then an innocent boy dies, and I’m at fault.”

 

Jack doesn’t say anything more. The traffic on the way to Joseph A. Banks is heavier than it has been the entire day, and Jack doesn’t know if it’s just because early morning has passed and people are running more errands, if it’s rush hour, or if it’s because God hates them or something, but whatever the case, the stopwatch keeps ticking away, and they’re running out of time.

 

Henry stares at the stopwatch. “When does he start the stopwatch? It’s not all of them at the same time, or else we would have lost early this morning.”

 

Jack shrugs. “I don’t know, Henry.”

 

There’s something about the time left on the stopwatch that unsettles Henry. Not so much the fact that if they don’t get to the right store on time, then a high school kid dies, but more how each stopwatch is tailored to run out in the time that it would take Boone, Peters, and Jack to find out the clue and get to the next location. He’s figuring it out before anyone else before him, but…there’s something that Henry is missing, and he needs to know the next puzzle piece.

 

Jack pulls into the parking lot in front of Joseph A. Banks. There is a piece of paper on the brick wall next to the window. Henry, as usual, gets out of the car first, and he races toward the building, praying to God that the paper on the wall isn’t a sign for relocation or a closed day or something, but rather the next clue. They don’t have time to get anywhere else.

 

When he’s within seeing distance of the paper, he squints and pulls off his sunglasses. Underneath the piece of paper, lying on the ground, is a stopwatch. They have forty minutes to find the next clue.

 

Boone and Peters run up behind him, and Jack is the last officer to see the paper. Henry holds out his hand for something clean, taking the tissue that Boone places in his hand. He gently pulls the piece of paper off the wall.

 

“‘Give a drink to Mr. Spencer, on the house! / Actually, no, I can’t do that. / Hush, hush, Henry, be as quiet as a mouse, / Grab a baseball and a bat. / Are you ready to relive your glory days / In front of a whole crowd? / Look into the stands and hold my gaze / Six rings is all that’s allowed.’”

 

Jack peers over Peters’ shoulder and points to the writing. “We’re back to typewriter font. That could be anything.”

 

Boone purses his lips. “‘Baseball and bat?’ Does he want us to go to the baseball diamond?”

 

Henry stares at the paper and silently repeats the lines that stand out most to him.

_ No, I can’t do that. _

_ Hush, hush…quiet as a mouse. _

_ Baseball and a bat _

_ Glory days _

_ Stands _

 

He thumps the paper. “We’re supposed to go to the high school.”

 

Peters holds up a hand, effectively preventing Henry from pushing past him. “How do you know that?”

 

Henry sighs and rolls his eyes. They’re running out of time, and he has to take some of those precious seconds to explain why he got it. “Yang said he couldn’t buy me a drink, then he told me to be as quiet as a mouse right before telling me about baseball and my glory days. I was one of the top players on my high school baseball team, and I could have gone to college to play, but I joined the force instead.”

 

Peters closes his eyes and shakes his head. “How does the ‘quiet as a mouse’ play into this?”

 

Henry shrugs. “High schools have libraries,” he says matter-of-factly. He takes off for the cruiser while Jack grabs the stopwatch.

 

“So we’re supposed to go to the high school library?”

 

Henry shakes his head and puts on his sunglasses. “The gym! We’re supposed to go to the gym!”

 

“But how does the library play into this?”

 

“It doesn’t! It’s a misdirect!” He studies the asphalt in front of his eyes and waits for Jack to unlock the cruiser.  _ Six rings is all that’s allowed. _ “Is he going to call me or something?”

 

**

 

By the time they get to the high school (luckily, Eric went to the same high school that Henry went to, or else they  _ would _ have had to split up and everything would have gone to shit), there’s only seven minutes left on the stopwatch. Jack pulls into the parking lot at 50 mph, forcing the car to skid in the middle. Henry throws open the passenger door, and he and Boone run into the school. They don’t stop to flash their badges.

 

“Henry, do you know where you’re going?”

 

“I had my high school reunion just a couple of years ago!” Henry shouts over his shoulder. His tennis shoes slap against the linoleum, and he keeps his eyes trained on the double doors at the end of the hallway. “Nothing has changed since then, except how they decorate the classrooms!”

 

“But why the gym?”

 

“It’s our game gym! We have some really nice stands!” He throws out his arms, forces the doors open, and bolts into the gym. High schoolers who have PE for their third period all freeze and look at him. A telephone rings. Absently, he takes out his badge and flashes it in the direction of the teacher. “‘Look into the stands and hold my gaze,’” he murmurs.

 

He starts scanning the visitor's stands for any sign of a person, squinting to see past the shadows, but there’s no one. “Boone, turn on all the lights!”

 

The PE teacher shuffles forward. “All the lights  _ are _ on, sir.”

 

Peters and Jack burst through the doors just as the telephone rings again. Henry looks over his shoulder and spins on his heel, looking at the home side for someone.

 

Silver flashes at him, and Henry steps closer, examining the flash of silver. “Coach, when did you get a telephone up in the stands?”

 

“Last year, Henry. Parents were complaining about losing their seats or missing the game if the telephone rang in the middle of a game.”

 

Henry nods and bolts for the stands. He doesn’t bother with the stairs; he just grabs the top of the railing, pulls himself up, and hooks his leg over the railing.

 

The phone rings for the third time.

 

He takes the steps four at a time. Jack is right on his heels, urging Henry to move faster.

 

Four rings.

 

Henry reaches the top of the stands and runs for the telephone. The phone sits innocently in its cradle, as if it doesn’t hold the fate of a high school student in its hands. He skids to a stop right in front of the phone, and he’s about to lift it off its cradle when one of the puzzle pieces falls into place.

 

“Henry, what are you doing? Pick up that damn phone!”

 

Henry shakes his head and backs away from the phone. “Don’t you see?” he asks his teammates. Boone and Peters got up into the stands merely a few seconds ago, and they’re panting, but they’re not so tired that they can’t glare at him. “The phone started ringing when we  _ got _ here, right after Boone and I reached the gym! He’s watching us! He’s been with us every step of the way!”

 

The phone rings again. The shrill sound pierces the air, and the high schoolers stand around in confusion, mesh jerseys and deflated basketballs in hand.

 

“And the writing! That chalk wasn’t faded from the wind or the ocean air; it was fresh! He must have been there when we got there! And the lady handed the poem to Shawn fifteen minutes before we got to the school! There was nothing sticking to the tape when we pulled it off the wall! He’s here, I’m telling you!” It’s a stretch, but Henry knows he’s right. He has to be right.

 

“Spencer, answer that fucking phone before that boy dies.” Peters reaches for his holster, and Henry is ready for the draw.

 

“Did you not hear me? He’s here! Instead of playing his game, we can just catch the son of a bitch!”

 

“Pick up the  _ phone, _ Henry!”

 

The phone rings one last time. Henry turns on his heel, lifts the phone off the cradle, and slams it back down on the receiver.

 

He hears Boone and Peters draw their weapons, and, when he turns back around, he makes sure that his right hand is on the butt of his gun. The detectives point their weapons at him, and Jack gets in the middle, holding out both hands: one to push Henry away if need be, and the other to placate the detectives.

 

“We can arrest you for obstruction of justice, Spencer!” Boone shouts.

 

“If that boy dies,” Peters says, “you  _ are _ an accessory to murder.”

 

Henry licks his lips and glances around the gym. There is one exit next to the visitor’s side, and the exit has one little window. Outside, Henry can see the outline of the library. He smacks his forehead, jumps over the top row of seats, and starts running for the exit. “The library wasn’t a misdirect! It was a clue as to where he was!”

 

Boone and Peters hesitantly holster their guns and run after Henry. Henry braces one hand on the railing and clears the railing easily. The landing kills his knees, but the adrenaline is starting to kick in.

 

He pushes past crowds of high schoolers, ignoring the way they shout at him and tell him to slow down. Jack, again, is on his heels. “Henry, you better know what you’re doing.”

 

Henry licks his lips. “I don’t,” he admits. “But I think I know how this guy thinks.” He throws open the doors to the library, and the first thing he notices is the librarian. Her head rests on the desk, and he points to her. “Check for a pulse. I’m going to look for the next clue.” He heads for the tables at the back of the library.

 

Jack presses two fingers to the librarian’s neck. “She’s still alive.”

 

Boone and Peters burst into the library. “Henry, put your fucking hands behind your back –”

 

Henry lifts up a piece of paper. “Blackout poetry! We have a clue!”

 

Boone glares at Henry and rips it out of his hands. “All it says is Y–A–N–G. You don’t have a clue, you have a fucking signature.”

 

Henry shakes his head. “Turn it  _ over, _ Boone.” He braces his hands on the table and bows his head.

 

There still is blackout poetry on the back. “‘The boy…still alive / I have to ask – why? / One more chance / That’s it / That’s all you get.’”

 

Peters breathes a sigh of relief. “The kid is still alive. Henry called it, Floyd.” Peters jerks his head to the door. “Come on, Henry. We better get going.”

 

Henry shakes his head. “I’m out.”

 

Peters’ eyes harden. “What do you mean you’re out?”

 

Henry lifts his head and smiles humorlessly. “I’ve played his game, but I’m done, okay? I’m done. Do you understand how difficult this is?”

 

Jack takes a step forward. “Henry, you know as well as we do that no one has ever gotten this far before. You’ve kept Yang interested, even when you called his bluff.”

 

Henry slams his hand on the table. “He’s in my head now! The longer this goes on, the more risks I’m going to take, and the more likely it will be that an innocent kid dies because of me.” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “He’s not going to give up. The game interests him. He likes watching detectives and cops struggle. Boone, Peters, you can go back to the station for the next clue and try to keep him engaged long enough for the boy to stay alive. After 24 hours, he should cede the game.”

 

Peters takes a step forward. “Henry, Yang challenged you. You’ve gotta be a part of this.”

 

Henry nods quickly. “Yeah, I know. I know he challenged me, but you don’t  _ get _ it. He’s never challenged you. So, yeah, go ahead, keep telling me that I have to keep playing this game, keep waving your gun around and telling me that I’m obstructing justice, because I’m  _ not. _ I can’t do this anymore. The longer this goes on, the more Eric is at risk.”

 

Boone grips Henry’s elbow and tugs him toward the door. “Even if you’re not his main foe, Henry,” Boone grits, “you’re still on this case, or I will arrest you. Capiche?”

 

Henry sighs. “I just want out.” His voice sounds weak and weary. “I just want to be free from this.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have a lot of feelings about Henry. Not even with this fic, just in general.


	5. Risk (More Than a Board Game)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang ups the stakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I…forgot that I had another chapter to post because I got so wrapped up in writing a different fic that *breathes in deeply* I just love so much. I still have the FREAKING Frankenstein paper, but it's fine, I'm fine, everything's fine.
> 
> *laughs evilly* Enjoy this chapter.

Henry sits in his desk chair, his head bowed low. Herb wanted to have words with him, but Jack discouraged it, telling Herb that he thinks Henry just snapped out there in the field.

 

He wouldn’t be wrong, Henry admits. But it’s more of an issue of “hey, I don’t want to play by  _ Yang’s _ rules anymore; I want to play by my own” rather than “I can’t handle one more second of this.” Up in the bullpen, the other officers quarrel over what the new clue means and who it’s meant for.

 

Brett Connors smacks Boone’s shoulder. “Floyd, that clue is meant for me!” He points to the third line of the poem. “‘Where you push up your glasses and start to sing.’ My daughter was in the Christmas program last semester! She had a solo!”

 

Boone rolls his eyes. “How else do you know that?”

 

Henry runs a hand through his hair. “It’s written in crayon. Brett’s daughter is in…” He sits up straighter, and he doesn’t think he can breathe. “Brett’s daughter is in Shawn’s grade.”

 

Peters raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you back on the case now, quitter?”

 

Henry stands slowly and glares daggers at Peters. “My son might be in danger.” He stands close to Peters, and he takes pride in the fact that he towers over the detective. “You can bet your ass I’ll do anything to protect him, including getting back on this case.”

 

Jack just shrugs. “Can I pass the baton to Connors now, Chief?”

 

Herb nods. “Henry, you go with Connors, and Boone and Peters, you follow them again. Go as fast as they go, and make sure you put on your sirens.”

 

Henry raises his hand. “Chief? Can I take my truck? When all this is said and done, I don’t want to have to come back for it.”

 

Herb glares at Henry. “Fine.” He starts to head to his office, and then he remembers something and turns around. “Oh, yeah, Henry: your wife went to pick up Shawn about half an hour ago.”

 

Henry furrows his brow. “Is she back yet?”

 

Herb frowns and shakes his head. “No. Should she be?”

 

Henry licks his lips. “It might just be some rough traffic.”

 

**

 

It can’t be rough traffic because there  _ is _ no traffic. Henry doesn’t even need the police escort to get to Shawn’s school in time; all he does is drive a little faster than normal.

 

“That’s odd,” he murmurs to himself. “There should be at least be some traffic going on.”

 

A part of him keeps screaming that something is very, very wrong, that God is trying to tell him something with this kind of silence, but Henry swallows past the lump in his throat and drives faster.

 

His brain’s first thought is that Yang murdered his son. No theatrics, just a clean slit on the throat while he’s left to bleed out in some kind of field.

 

He clenches his jaw, grips the steering wheel tighter, and speeds up to 60. “That can’t be,” he says. “God, if my son is dead, I will fight you myself. Just you and me, and I won’t let up. He’s too young, God.” He closes his eyes for just a second. “Not my son, God. Not my son.”

 

Henry and Connors arrive at the scene at the exact same time, and both of them park haphazardly. Some kids are left in the pickup line, and the ones who are left are completely shaken, their mouths hanging wide open, eyes the size of golf balls.

 

Shawn is still there.

 

Henry runs for his son, and once he gets closer, he sees that Mrs. Harris – the teacher in charge of elementary pickup today – is knocked out cold. The children all huddle in the back corner as soon as the adults approach, but Shawn, Trish, and Gus all stand at the front. Both Gus and Trish are trying to calm Shawn down.

 

Shawn looks up, and somehow, through his tears, he’s able to see Henry, and he bolts for his father. Henry bends down, lifts Shawn into his arms in one swoop, and holds his son close as he walks over to Gus and Trish. “I- I went t-to the bathroom for-for just a-a  _ second, _ and when I- when I walk-walked out, I s-saw it hap- _ happen.” _ He buries his head into his father’s neck.

 

Henry braces his hand against the nape of Shawn’s neck. “Gus, Trish…what happened?”

 

Both children look at him with watery eyes. Gus looks like he was just barely managing to hold on for Shawn, but Trish seems hardly any better. Trish licks her lips. “Some l-lady knocked out Mrs. Spencer, sir.”

 

Henry’s knees buckle.

 

A cold hand with sharp, massive talons drags its claw down the lining of Henry’s lungs. The same hand breathes poisoned breath into Henry, whispering that it was all his fault, that Madeleine is already dead.

 

Henry gulps. “What?”

 

Connors squeezes Henry’s shoulder, trying to impart some of his strength onto Henry. “We found the next clue, Henry.”

 

Henry looks at Connors. “‘We?’” he echoes.

 

Connors nods. “Boone and Peters got here right after us. They were checking the perimeter and found something on the east wall.”

 

Henry follows Connors to the east wall, still carrying Shawn. He’s not letting go of him anytime soon. “This son of a bitch has my wife?”

 

Connors stops at the wall and nods to the red spray paint. “Looks that way.”

 

**The game isn’t fun anymore?**

**That’s alright, I guess.**

**I just want you to know that I’ve officially declared war.**

**Today is the only day for the year, but treat this war as a game of chess.**

**Strategy, strategy is the key.**

**You’ve got your son, the pawn; you, the king.**

**Right now, I have your queen.**

**Make a sacrifice, tick, tick, tick.**

**I won’t wait forever.**

**Even my rhyming has gone away.**

 

**Spitefully Yours,**

**Yang**

 

Henry presses his cheek to Shawn’s hair. “I can’t do this, Brett. I can’t do this.”

 

“It’s personal now, Henry. We need you, or we won’t catch him.”

 

Henry grits his teeth. If he weren’t holding Shawn, he would have sent his fist flying through that wall. “It’s not a  _ man, _ Brett! Don’t you get it? The language is passive-aggressive. The writing loops with the y’s, g’s, and the d’s. This is a jealousy play!” His eyes burn with tears, and he’s too sick and tired of repressing all his emotions of the day that he just lets it go. “This fucking bitch took my wife! I won’t let her get away with it!”

 

Connors takes a step forward, stretching out a placating hand. “Henry, we can’t prove –”

 

Shawn sniffs and moves his head so that he can look at Captain Connors past his father’s neck. “He’s right, Mr. Connors. I saw her hit Mom and knock her out. She knocked out Mrs. Harris before she could call you guys.”

 

Henry sets Shawn down and holds his face in his hands. “Are you okay, Shawn? Did she hurt you?”

 

Shawn shakes his head, not even complaining that his dad is messing up his hair. “She didn’t get me. I don’t think she knew where I was. I saw her through the windows. Gus had to stop me from running after her.”

 

Henry kisses Shawn’s forehead and then the top of his head. “Thank God for Gus,” he whispers. “I can’t lose both you and your mom in the same day. I’m not that strong.” He closes his eyes and kisses Shawn’s head again. “I’m not even strong enough now.”

 

Connors winces. “Henry, you have to work this case with us.”

 

Henry nods and pulls Shawn close to him again. He can feel Shawn’s heartbeat. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.” He stands up and Shawn clings to him again. “But we’re going to need all the reinforcements we can get, and I’m going to need you with me at all times until we find where she took Madeleine.”

 

“I’m touched, Henry, truly, I am, but don’t you think someone should be looking for Eric?”

 

Peters and Boone stick their heads around the corner of the building. “Some officers just arrived on scene. They’re watching the kids.”

 

Henry frowns, realizing for the first time that he didn’t see a single officer when he arrived at the school. “Where did they go? Jerry, Lou, and two others were here earlier today.”

 

Peters and Boone glance at each other, and Peters winces. “Herb called them back as soon as he heard you quit the case. He said he needed all hands on deck.”

 

Henry’s eyes spit fire. “Herb and I are going to have words when I get back. My son could have fucking died. My wife was  _ kidnapped _ because of his decision.”

 

“Are you sure you should be saying that word around him?”

 

“I don’t  _ give _ a damn! There are more important things right now than whether or not I swear in front of my son!” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “What about Eric? Do we know if he’s alive?”

 

Boone’s face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, actually! He’s still alive. We found him at the back. An ambulance is on its way. He’ll have a major concussion, and he might suffer some brain damage, but he’s still alive. I think Yang abandoned his first victim to really get at you. Probably figured you’d only blame yourself if the kid died, but you couldn’t live with yourself if your family died.”

 

Henry glares at Boone. “Thanks, Boone, I really needed that.” He starts pacing, and his shirt starts to scratch at his skin again, but Shawn nuzzles his head into the crook of Henry’s neck, and that makes things slightly better. Henry can breathe slightly better. “Where would Yang take her?”

 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

 

“Is there a stopwatch?”

 

Connors, Boone, and Peters all step closer to the giant display of vandalism. “Nope. No stopwatch.”

 

“You have until nighttime.” Shawn’s voice is small in comparison to the officers.

 

Henry turns his head to try and see his son better. “How do you know that?”

 

“There’s a sticky note on Mrs. Harris’ shirt. It’ll be the same handwriting.”

 

Connors and Peters make eye contact and run off to see if Shawn’s observation checks out.

 

Henry pulls back a little bit from Shawn. “Shawn, look, I just– I can’t drop you off at the Gusters’ to finish this case. I don’t trust them that much. Not in this kind of situation.”

 

Shawn pulls away enough to look at his father. The tears are gone, but the trace of their presence is still there. Shawn’s cheeks are still tear-stained, his eyes are still red and puffy, and his voice is still thick, but every other part of him is trying to stay brave for his father. “You mean I have to go with you?”

 

Henry presses his lips to Shawn’s forehead and closes his eyes. “That’s why Mr. Connors is coming with us, Shawn. He’s the only other person I would trust with you.”

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Yeah, Shawn?”

 

“Are we gonna find Mommy in time?”

 

Henry licks his lips, moves his hand from Shawn’s back, and cups Shawn’s cheek before he presses another kiss to Shawn’s forehead. “I pray that we do, Shawn. I pray to  _ God _ that we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone read (or found) any good Henry/Maddy fics that are either on here, ff.net, or Psychfic? I think I've read through them all and I need m o r e .


	6. Help Me (I Can't Do it on My Own)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has his son. His son, for the time being, is safe.
> 
> It's his wife that he's scared to death for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to post this four different times at school, but the wifi decided it hated me, so I couldn't do that. It's up now! It's finally up.

The Gusters come by to pick up Gus. By that time, Mrs. Harris starts coming to, and she tearfully tells the officers everything that she can recall. Occasionally, Shawn speaks up in his small voice and fills in some details, and Henry curses Shawn’s eidetic memory because there is no way he’s going to forget this.

 

Apparently, Maddy parked at the front at about 2:35. The same lady that gave Shawn the poem was waiting by the pillar until most of the kids were gone. Mrs. Harris noticed her and went to approach her, and the lady hit her over the head with what Shawn said was a crowbar. Maddy got out of the car, the lady lunged for her, and Maddy – according to Shawn – punched the lady square in the eye. There was a small fight until the lady hit Maddy with the crowbar, stuffed her back in her car, and drove off.

 

Henry can’t help but smile when he hears that Maddy put up a fight.  _ That’s my girl. _

 

The Gusters offer to watch Shawn, but Henry holds him closer and shakes his head. “No,” he says. Shawn’s cheek rests on his shoulder, and Henry can tell by Shawn’s slow, steady breaths that he’s on his way to falling asleep. “I need to know that no one can get him. I need him to be with me.”

 

The other officers think it’s stupid, but Jerry and Brett step in and say that they understand Henry’s fear and his desperate need to protect his son.

 

The officers wrap up at the elementary school, and Henry checks his watch. “We have less than two hours until sundown.”

 

When they all get back to the station (Henry reluctantly let go of Shawn for the duration of the drive back to the station), Herb has one last clue for them.

 

“Henry, we heard about Madeleine, and I promise, we’re going to do everything we can to find her –”

 

Henry passes Shawn to Connors, puts one hand on the butt of his gun, and grabs Herb by the collar of his shirt, forcing him into the wall. “It was  _ your _ fault that my wife got kidnapped! If you’d just let those officers stay at the school, Yang wouldn’t have done this! My wife would have been safe!”

 

Herb holds up both hands and locks eyes with the surrounding officers, all of whom are prepared to draw their weapons. He shakes his head no, telling them silently to stand down. “Henry, I figured we’d need all hands on deck since you gave –”

 

Henry presses his forearm against Herb’s neck, pinning him against the wall. “Don’t you  _ dare _ put the blame on me! You  _ swore _ to me that officers would be at my son’s school at all times! He could have been taken or killed! Do you understand that, Herb? My son could have  _ died _ because you made that decision!” He leans closer, so that only Herb can hear him. “If my son would have died,” he says lowly, “you can bet your ass I would have killed you. Prison or not, I would have killed you. And if my wife dies, it’ll be  _ your _ fault.”

 

Herb licks his lips. “Henry, you’re emotionally compromised.”

 

“Damn straight I’m emotionally compromised!” Tears sting Henry’s eyes, and he tries to blink them back. “Do you understand what I’m going through? There’s no way I can be completely sure that my son is safe, sans having him with me at all times through the rest of this shitty ordeal! I might be too late, and he might lose his mother because of it! This is the worst  _ fucking _ thing that could have possibly happened to me, and it’s  _ your _ fault!”

 

Herb has never been terrified of any of his officers before, dirty cops or no, but he is scared of Henry right now. Murderous rage spits from Henry’s eyes, and his hands shake with anger. If no one talks Henry down soon, Herb – and probably Henry – are dead.

 

“Dad.”

 

Henry’s shoulders relax, and he looks away from Herb. “What is it, Shawn?”

 

Shawn shrugs and searches Henry’s eyes. “How are we supposed to find Mom if you spend all of your time yelling at Chief Wilkins?”

 

“Are you taking his side?” Henry’s incredulous. Shawn  _ knows _ why his mother got taken, that he himself could have been taken, and he’s coming to the  _ aid _ of Herb?

 

Shawn shakes his head. “No.” He lifts his left hand and bites his thumbnail. “I would love to see you punch him so hard he spins, but I would rather find Mom.” He presses his lips together. “Daddy, I just want her back.”

 

Henry relaxes completely and lets go of Herb. Connors watches him carefully, examining Henry’s stance to see if it’s safe to give Shawn back to him. Henry stops right in front of Connors and bends down so that he’s eye level with Shawn. “I still might be too late.”

 

Shawn licks his lips and nods. “But at least you’ll have tried.”

 

Henry sighs and nods, stretching his arms out for Shawn. Connors reluctantly passes Shawn back to him. “Where’s the next clue?” he asks the station, refusing to turn around. Shawn wraps his arms tightly around his neck.

 

Herb clears his throat and steps forward. “Here,” he says, passing Henry an iHop menu. Yang wrote the primary clue around the edge of the menu in Sharpie, but Henry catches the fact that Yang circled blueberry pancakes on the menu.

 

Shawn tilts his head. “‘There’s not much better than lazy Saturday afternoons, complete with pancakes and juice, sitting on the couch, watching the daily cartoons. Think all you want, it’s no use; I have your queen, and I’m ready to take your pawn. Search the crime scene, talk, talk, talk. Better say goodbye before she’s gone. You enjoyed your blueberry pancakes early today. Just be prepared to lower your wife into her grave. It’s your move, king. Better choose wisely.’” He looks to his father with wide eyes. “Daddy?”

 

Henry grits his teeth and passes Shawn back to Connors. He turns around, smiles bitterly, shakes his head, and laughs. “You fucking  _ bastard,” _ he says, looking at Jack. “You  _ fucking _ bastard.” He draws his weapon and points it at Jack’s chest.

 

Jack holds up his hands, and the other officers in the bullpen pull their guns. Half follow Henry’s lead and point their weapons at Jack, and the other half point their weapons at Henry and the opposing officers. “What did  _ I _ do?”

 

Henry holsters his gun, storms over to Jack, and punches him as hard as he can in the face. Jack stumbles backward, holding his hand up to his eye.

 

“What the  _ hell _ was that for?”

 

Henry grabs Jack by the shirt collar and slams him into one of the pillars. “You are the  _ only _ one who knew that my family and I were eating pancakes for breakfast this morning! Playing fucking  _ double agent _ for Yang? That’s cruel.”

 

Jack holds up both hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Henry! I honestly forgot what you and your family had for breakfast this morning! I’ve had a bit more pressing matters to keep on my mind; namely, the clues we keep getting!”

 

“Do you know where she is?”

 

“How would  _ I  _ know where she is? The clue is meant for you! It’s going to relate to you! I swear, I didn’t sell you out!”

 

Shawn purses his lips and studies the clue. “Is it possible Yang could have tapped our house? Or the car you and Jack drove in?”

 

Henry furrows his brow and steps away from Jack. “Yeah, it’s possible.”

 

Connors pats Shawn’s back. “Is it likely?”

 

Henry closes his eyes, sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it’s more likely than Jack selling us out. Jack, give them the keys to the cruiser. Just to check.”

 

Jack nods and tosses the keys to Lou. Lou and Jerry head out to go check the cruiser. Henry leaves Jack alone and goes to stand by Connors.

 

Connors pulls Shawn closer to him. “I’m not giving your son back until you can reign in your anger. I get that you’re stressed and all, but I don’t want you blowing up again when you have him.”

 

Henry nods and scrubs a hand over his face. “No, I know. I get it.”

 

Shawn examines the clue again. “I bet the iHop menu was just to get you to snap. It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

Henry nods and wipes his mouth. “I think you’re right. The question is: which part is the clue?”

 

Shawn immediately points to one of the lines. “Cartoons. I feel like that’s our clue.”

 

Henry rolls his eyes and ruffles Shawn’s hair. “That’s all fine and dandy, but what does that mean? How –” he stops mid-sentence, and his eyes widen. “That  _ bitch.” _ He claps Connors on the shoulder, puts his thumb and middle finger into his mouth, and whistles to get the attention of the station. “She’s at Patterson Place, apartment complex number 5.”

 

Connors passes Shawn back to Henry and bolts after him. “How do you know that?”

 

“It was the first place I lived, long before I married Maddy. Before my parents moved out and gave me the house that we live now, we lived at the same apartment I lived in as a bachelor. On Saturdays, I would always make her blueberry pancakes – not that Yang or even Shawn would know that – and we’d watch the Saturday morning cartoons on the Saturdays we both had off.” He shakes his head, unlocks his truck, and opens the passenger door. Shawn scrambles inside. “But I’m betting that Yang’s been obsessed with me for a while now, and she’s either done her research, or she knows me a lot better than I expected.”

 

Connors gets in the truck after Shawn, and Henry runs around to the driver’s side. The other officers sprint down the steps, load up in various cruisers, and all of them flip on their sirens. “You’re sure? We only have half an hour before sunset.”

 

The engine roars to life, and Henry floors it. He’s beyond caring about driving safely. He’s going to save his wife. “If I’m wrong, then I’m wrong, but I know – I  _ know _ – that I’m right. There’s no other explanation.” He shakes his head. “I can’t be wrong, Brett. I  _ can’t _ be wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are always appreciated!


	7. Knock, Knock: Open Up, or I'll Come In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry Spencer meets Yang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been _waiting_ for literal months for you guys to read this chapter!! It's literally my favorite one of this entire fic (including the really intense chapter with the phone calls. I had a blast with that one, but this was just my favorite). I won't give away anything other than what's in the summary, but oh my gOoDnEsS, I love it.

An army of squad cars pulls up to Patterson Place Apartments, and Henry throws the car into park. “Look, Brett, I know you’re my boss, and I know you’re an officer, but you are the only person I trust with my son. Please,  _ please, _ watch after him. Make sure he’s safe.”

 

Connors nods. “Henry, you’re in charge of this operation. Right now, I’m not your boss; I’m your friend. Shawn will be safe with me.”

 

Henry licks his lips and nods. He reaches out and cups Shawn’s cheek. “I don’t know how far south this is going to go, Shawn, but remember that I love you. More than anything, more than words can say.” He leans forward and kisses Shawn’s forehead. He pulls away and runs his hand through Shawn’s hair. “I love you.”

 

Shawn nods, sniffles, and rubs his eyes. “I love you, too, Dad. Please just come back.”

 

“I’ll try my best. I promise. Listen to Captain Connors, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

Connors wraps a protective arm around Shawn. “Henry, make sure you get a bulletproof vest from the chief. You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

 

Henry opens the truck door and steps out. “Copy that.” He waves goodbye to his son, shuts the door, and walks away before he can lose his resolve.

 

Herb jogs up to him, holding out a bulletproof vest. “Your son needs at least one parent still with him.”

 

Henry nods and takes the vest. “Listen, Herb, about what happened in the station –”

 

Herb holds up a hand. “I’m not going to press charges. You’re stressed, you’re emotionally compromised, and you had just learned that your wife was kidnapped and your son was endangered. I deserved to have the fear of God lit into me. I expect we’ll have more words about it later, when you get back to work, but next time, you better be calmer. Right now, I need you to channel that anger and catch this son of a bitch.”

 

Henry adjusts the vest and draws his gun. “Herb, I don’t think you know it yet, but Yang is a woman. Or, at least, this Yang is. There’s something different about this round than all the others before.”

 

“You mean how, instead of killing the first victim when you gave up, Yang just took your wife instead? Yeah, I would say this is a different Yang than the one – or  _ ones _ – we’ve had before. Maybe an apprentice?”

 

Henry scans the apartment complexes. “Are any of these up for lease?”

 

Herb holds up a finger and relays the question into his radio. One officer responds immediately. “Apartment complex number five.”

 

Henry rolls his eyes. “Perfect.” He points his gun toward the ground and runs for the apartment complex. The lights are off, and it’s dead silent, too quiet even for an unoccupied apartment. He takes a breath and knocks on the door.

 

The door opens a crack. Henry can’t see anyone inside, just the gold chain that keeps the door locked. A woman’s voice floats through the air. “Who is it?”

 

“Henry Spencer,” Henry responds. He clicks his gun off safety, hoping that the action was quiet enough that the lady didn’t catch it.

 

The lady gasps. “Oh, it’s you! I must say, your wife is one feisty lady. I can see why you were so attracted to her.”

 

Henry glances to his right.  _ Why do I feel like she just winked at me? _

 

“And your son! What a brilliant little boy! He was right about me tapping your house and your partner’s car.”

 

Henry’s finger tightens over the trigger. “How did you know about that?”

 

“Well, remember, I tapped your house phone, and I put a bug in Atwater’s cruiser. I also put a bug on your desk, and it picked up your son’s voice.”

 

Henry grits his teeth. “Where’s my wife, Yang?”

 

The woman gasps. “That’s my alias! I’ll tell you my real name  _ and _ show you where your wife is, but only if you promise to come in alone.”

 

Henry looks around at the officers slowly stalking toward him. He holds up a hand. “Stand down!” he shouts at them. “And stay where you are. I’m going in alone.”

 

Peters shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re walking into, Henry. What about your son?”

 

Henry sighs and holsters his gun. “I’ve gotta take this chance. Stand down,” he repeats. “That’s an order.”

 

The lady on the other end claps her hands and slides the chain from its lock. The door opens just widely enough for Henry to slip through the crack, and he tenses his muscles, anticipating a crowbar coming over his head.

 

The lights remain off, and it takes Henry’s eyes a moment to adjust. When they do, he can see the outline of a small, petite woman. Henry can tell that her hair is, in fact, curly, and she’s a brunette, but other than that, he can’t see much. He clears his throat. “I take it you’re the one who gave my son the poem?”

 

Yang claps her hands again. “Good job, Mr. Spencer. Shawn is such a bright boy, but he’s not always the brightest tool in the shed.”

 

Henry grits his teeth. “Don’t use his name.”

 

Yang holds up her hands. “So-rry,” she says, drawing out the word. “You seem less than impressed about the whole fact that I’m a woman.”

 

Henry regards her warily. “You were barely one step ahead of us the entire time. When you used my son’s chalk, you did try and throw us off by using your non-dominant hand, but it looked too much like a woman’s. About the same time we discovered the chalk, you handed my son the poem. You also pulled a jealousy play,  _ and _ my son witnessed  _ you _ clubbing my wife over the head.”

 

Yang grins and steps into the little light the moon offers. “I must say that I’m impressed. This was a very interesting round.”

 

Henry wants to back away, but he draws himself up to his full height. His muscles are still tense, ready to spring. “Why did you choose me?”

 

Yang reaches out and brushes her fingers over Henry’s cheek. “It’s a shame you’re wearing that vest. There’s no way to see those muscles of yours.” She looks up at him. “I wouldn’t hurt you, you know.” She sighs dreamily and drapes her arms around Henry’s neck, ignoring the way he tries to flinch away from her touch. “I want you to like me.”

 

“Kidnapping my wife and following me obsessively is not exactly the best way to go about getting me to like you.”  _ Please let me go, please let me go, please let me go. _

 

Yang frowns and steps away from Henry, out of arm’s reach. He can no longer see her clearly, and frankly, he’s fine with that. “I just wanted to see you,” she whispers. “I wanted you to see me. Don’t you recognize me, Henry?”

 

“I can barely see you, and I really would rather you not get close to me again.”

 

Yang stomps her foot. “We know each other, Henry!”

 

Henry looks around and gestures around him. “How? I don’t remember you!”

 

Yang screams in frustration. “July 1963. Do you remember that?”

 

Henry looks at Yang like she’s crazy (which, to be fair, is accurate). “Why would I remember something from twenty years ago?”

 

Yang takes a step closer to him, and Henry shuffles backward. “Because, Henry, it was fate for us to meet. You comforted me, remember that?”

 

Henry looks at the ground and then looks up. “You were the lady who was crying on the sidewalk? All I did was give you my handkerchief and tell you things were going to get better!”

 

Yang nods frantically. “Yes, yes, that was me! I still have that hankie!” She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out the handkerchief. “You were so kind to me.”

 

Henry takes another step back. “I was just being a decent human being! You are at  _ least _ twenty years older than me! I was eleven then! I thought your husband was cheating on you, or that you were just having a bad day!” He presses his hands flat against the wall. “Have you been  _ following  _ me ever since then?”

 

Yang smiles at him. “I’ve seen every one of your sports games. I lived in the apartment next to you. I was at the church when you dedicated Shawn – sorry, I didn’t mean to use his name.” She frowns and turns her head, simultaneously angry and embarrassed. “I saw your wedding announcement in the paper, and I was  _ angry. _ That’s when I started planning to challenge you, except the Yin to my Yang decided I needed more training.”

 

Henry presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You don’t  _ own _ me, Yang! I didn’t even know who you were then! I didn’t even give you my name! How did you know who I was?”

 

She shrugs. “I followed you to your house, and then to the pool the next morning. As you were walking, I heard someone call your name. I think it was a girlfriend.”

 

“I didn’t  _ have _ a girlfriend when I was eleven.” He shakes his head. “Yang, I just– are you ever going to show me where my wife is?”

 

Yang sighs heavily. “I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

 

“Why would I forget about that?”

 

Yang gestures to the living room with her head, and Henry tentatively follows her. In the middle of the empty room is a solitary chair, but a little red light blinks next to that chair. Henry’s eyes take in the rags tied around Maddy’s ankles, digging into her skin, and his eyes travel up her body. Her arms are tightly bound behind her, to the point where it  _ has _ to be uncomfortable, and a gag is tied tightly around her head. Her head bobs, and she looks up, her eyes widening in terror and relief when she sees Henry.

 

Henry takes a step forward. “Maddy, sweetheart, are you okay?”

 

Maddy’s eyes no longer show any relief, and she shakes her head rapidly. Henry stops mid-step.

 

Yang sidles up next to him. She holds a detonator in her hand. “Henry, I need you to promise me some things before I let you have your wife back.”

 

Henry’s eyes remain on Maddy’s. “What is it?”

 

“First, you can’t ever forget me again. I’ll even give you my name so that you don’t.”

 

Henry nods slowly. “Deal.” His voice cracks.

 

Yang grins. “My name isn’t Yang, in fact. I’m actually Betty Harold.”

 

Henry gulps. “Betty Harold.” His mouth is dry, and his voice is barely audible. “Got it.”

 

“If I’m going to go to jail, I want you to write or visit me once a month. That’s not asking too much, is it?”

 

Henry grits his teeth. “I have the option?”

 

Yang – Betty – nods. “I would personally prefer that you visit, but I get that you have family obligations. Writing is acceptable.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Betty giggles maniacally, and Henry’s eyes snap from Maddy’s to look at Betty. “There’s one last thing,” she says, stepping closer to him, and for the first time, Henry can see the gray in her hair.

 

“What is it?”

 

Her grin is unsettling. “Kiss me.”

 

Henry looks to Maddy. He would honestly rather drink bleach, but if this is the only way to get Maddy out of this situation, he’s willing to do it. Her shoulders droop as much as the binding allows, and she nods. Henry looks back to Betty. “Is a kiss on the cheek acceptable?”

 

Betty’s face brightens. “Yes!”

 

He tries not to let his surprise show, and he leans forward and kisses her cheek. He can feel the talcum powder on his lips, and he’s sure that he’s done.

 

Betty grabs his arm. “And a quick peck on the lips.”

 

Henry grits his teeth, winces internally, and promises himself that he’ll apologize a thousand times over to Maddy for this. He quickly pecks Betty’s lips and pulls away. “There. You got your kiss, and I’ve agreed to all your terms. Now, can I have my wife back?”

 

Betty sighs, rolls her eyes, and stomps over to the bomb. “I want you to like me, Henry, so I won’t hurt her. I’m turning off the bomb.”

 

Henry doesn’t trust Betty, so he walks up to her side and watches her diffuse the bomb. The bomb stops blinking, and there’s no boom. Betty holds up her hands, and Henry draws his gun and handcuffs. “Betty Harold, you are under arrest for two attempted murders and two kidnappings.” As he slaps the cuffs on her, he reads her her Miranda Rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

 

Betty grins and nods her head. “I understand, and I do have something to say.”

 

Henry grabs her by the arm, sending Maddy an apologetic glance, promising that he’s coming back for her. “And what is that?”

 

She knocks her shoulder into his. “You’re kinky.”

 

Henry rolls his eyes, yanks open the door, and shoves Betty out the door. “Clear!”

 

Yelling fills the air as the officers converge on the scene. Henry runs back inside and starts untying Maddy. First, he removes her gag. “Honey? Are you alright? I know she clubbed you, but aside from that, any injuries?”

 

Maddy shakes her head and bites back a sob. “No, I’m fine. My head hurts, but that’s to be expected.” As Henry moves behind the chair to untie her hands, she asks, “What about Shawn? Is he alright? Is he safe?”

 

Henry nods. “Yes, he’s safe. He’s with Connors.”

 

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

 

Henry successfully unties the binds around Maddy’s wrists and moves back to the front of the chair. Other officers storm into the apartment. “Mad, I just– I needed to know where he was at all times, and I needed to know that he was safe. I couldn’t guarantee that without Connors, or without Shawn being here.” He finally frees her from the chair, and she throws her arms around him.

 

“I knew you would come for me.” She tucks her head into the crook of his neck and breathes in his scent. He still smells like rain and sea salt, but he also smells like protectiveness, if that quality even had a smell.

 

Henry rubs her back and pulls her close. “I would have searched the entire world for you, but I didn’t know if I would get here in time.” He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

 

“Alright is a relative term. I’m scared shitless.”

 

Henry smiles and kisses her head. “I’ve cried more times today than I have in my entire life.”

 

“How is that kid, by the way? The first one?”

 

Henry slides one hand under Maddy’s knees and pulls her to his chest. It’s a bit of a struggle standing up, but he’s ready to leave this cursed apartment. “He’s alive. Critical condition, but he should make it. As for you, we should get you bandaged up.”

 

Maddy cups his cheek with her hand, and Henry tries not to flinch because this is his wife, this is Madeleine, but Yang just did the same thing fifteen minutes ago. “I love you, Henry.” She lifts herself up just a little bit and kisses him.

 

Henry sighs and kisses her back. The tears that have been threatening him all day long finally squeeze out of his eyes, and she kisses his tears away, whispering promises to him that she is perfectly safe, that she is going to be alright now that he’s there.

 

Henry carries her out to the front, where his truck is parked. An ambulance is parked right next to his truck, and the door to his vehicle is thrown open. Connors yells, but Shawn still tears for his parents.

 

“Mom! Mom!”

 

Henry pulls her closer. “Don’t you dare lean down, or you might pass out on me. Let’s get to the ambulance first.”

 

Shawn runs up to his father and throws his arms around his waist. “You did it! You saved her!”

 

Henry grins. “I’m just glad you’re both safe.”

 

“I was scared, Daddy.”

 

Henry whistles lowly. “Not nearly as scared as I was, son.” They reach the ambulance and Henry reluctantly sets Maddy on the edge of the vehicle. The paramedics smile understandingly and take to looking after her.

 

Maddy reaches out and ruffles Shawn’s hair. “Shawn, I think it’s safe to say that you’re not going back to school until your father and I go back to work.”

 

Shawn’s face doesn’t light up as much as Henry would have expected. “Do I get to be with you guys?”

 

Henry nods and picks up his son so that he can hug Maddy. “Not too tightly,” Henry whispers. “She’s got a concussion.” He smiles when Shawn kisses his mother’s cheek. “But yeah, you get to be with us. Is that a deal breaker?”

 

Shawn looks back at his father and grins. “Nope!” he says, shaking his head emphatically. He snuggles into Henry’s arms as the paramedics swarm around Maddy and ask her a variety of questions. “I feel safer with you.”

 

Henry rests his cheek on Shawn’s head. “Oh, yeah?”

 

Shawn shrugs. “I like Captain Connors okay, and he’s a good cop, but he’s not you, Daddy. You’re like Superman, but even better, because your superpower is being a dad.”

 

Henry doesn’t cry when Shawn says this. Really. His eyes do tear up, but there are a lot of plants around this apartment complex, and he’s allergic to pollen. He’s also allergic to cats. So, no, he isn’t  _ crying _ at Shawn’s words. The fact that he cups Shawn’s face and pulls him close to kiss his forehead is completely unrelated.

 

Maddy’s mouth falls open, and she looks at Henry, just to confirm if Shawn said what she thinks he said. When she sees that Henry’s crying (she knows he’s going to claim allergies for  _ this _ specific tear-fest), she knows she heard right.

 

She reaches out and places her hand on Henry’s arm. “Shawn’s right, Henry.” Henry looks at her and raises an eyebrow. “You are a superhero, but even better, because you do it all out of love.”

 

Henry adjusts Shawn so that Shawn’s resting on one hip, and Henry can therefore hold him with only one arm, and then he wraps his free arm around Maddy’s shoulders. “I love you,” he whispers, searching her eyes. Her blue eyes are cloudier than normal, but they’re still fairly clear, and she leans into his side. “More than you can ever know.”

 

She tugs on his shirt. “Lean down so I can kiss you.”

 

Henry does lean down, and he kisses his wife. She sighs happily and wraps one arm around his neck. Henry steps closer to give her a better angle, and she kisses him one last time before she finally pulls away.

 

“I do know exactly what you mean,” she says, “because that is exactly how much I love you.”

 

Herb jogs up to the Spencers. “Henry, I know you’ll hate me for this, but we will need to take your statement. Madeleine, we understand that you’re concussed, but it would be nice if you could tell us what you recall.” Herb nods awkwardly and jerks his head to Boone and Peters. “They’ll be coming by soon, but I wanted to tell you that you both have three weeks of paid leave. Henry, when you get back, if you’d prefer to be assigned to desk duty for a little bit longer, then that’s alright with me. Madeleine, I’ll talk to Dr. Taylor about it, but –”

 

Maddy holds up her hand. “Three weeks will be fine for me, Herb. Henry suffered more.”

 

Herb smiles and nods. “Oh, Henry, the paid leave does come with a catch.”

 

Henry nods. “Therapy?”

 

Herb nods again. “Therapy. Preferably not with your wife, and not necessarily with Dr. Taylor. Madeleine probably can recommend some doctors who specialize with traumatic situations.”

 

Henry shakes Herb’s hand. “Thank you, Herb.”

 

After Herb leaves, Shawn looks to his parents and grins mischievously. “So does that mean I get out of school for a whole month?”

 

Henry shakes his head emphatically at the same time Maddy says no. “Two weeks. Two and a half, max.”

 

Shawn shrugs and rests his cheek on his father’s shoulder. “I know, but it was worth a shot.”

 

Henry winces at the term, and Shawn’s eyes widen.

 

“I-I meant –”

 

Maddy squeezes Shawn’s wrist. “We know what you meant, Shawn.”

 

Henry jerks his head to Boone and Peters and sets Shawn next to Maddy. “They’re coming to take our statements.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t want to relive this.”

 

Maddy blows out a breath of hot air and rests her head against the doorframe. “We’re already going to be reliving it every day for the rest of our lives; why not start now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN HENRY AND SHAWN AND MADDY ALL LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND I ALMOST CRIED WRITING THE END.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When something bad happens, it takes the body a while to process the shock.
> 
> Panic, shock, terror…when will it end? When will it all end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say, I'm sad to see this one end. This is one of my favorite fics that I've ever written, and I'm going to miss it.

None of them can go to sleep that night.

 

Well, that’s not entirely true. Shawn actually fell asleep relatively quickly, considering the day’s events, and he’s sleeping peacefully on his bed, right across the hall from his parents.

 

Henry knows, logically, that nothing is going to happen to Shawn because he’s on high alert and the Yang who set out to get him is behind bars, but that doesn’t stop him from checking on his son every half hour or so. Moonlight streaks through Shawn’s window and illuminates Shawn’s head, making him look almost angelic.

 

He sighs and turns back into his own bedroom. Maddy sits on the bed, her face buried into her hands, and she rocks back and forth. A Bible lies open in front of her, and when Henry gets closer, he can see the highlighted verse and hear Maddy mumbling it under her breath.

 

Maddy moves her hands from her face, flips the pages of her Bible a few times, and stops at another verse. Henry sits next to her, causing the mattress to dip under his weight.

 

_ I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears. _

 

Henry wraps an arm around her. “You’re safe now, Maddy.”

 

Maddy nods and leans into his embrace. “I know, but…I don’t know. This is just like an added reassurance.” She rubs both hands over her face. “This is always how I’ve gotten over panic and anxiety attacks. Having you by my side helps, and so does knowing Shawn’s safe, but. I don’t know, this is more…foolproof? Does that make any sense?”

 

Henry pulls Maddy into his chest, and she rests her head on his shoulder. “Two things: first, I get reciting the Bible to help with fear. I’ve done it on a few bad cases, but that’s…for some reason, it’s only the cases that  _ I’m _ involved in. Like, today? I was so stressed that the only time I prayed was to tell God that you and Shawn better be okay.”

 

Maddy smiles.

 

“Second: why haven’t you told me about your panic and anxiety attacks?”

 

Maddy sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “Mostly because I know it doesn’t make sense. I know that, unless I hear otherwise, you’re alive and that late nights don’t necessarily mean my world has fallen apart. I know that you have a lot of paperwork to deal with, and I know Herb sometimes won’t let you go home unless you’ve officially closed a case, no matter how trivial, but I always worry.” She places one hand on his right cheek and presses a kiss to his left cheek. “You got shot when we were dating, Henry, and ever since then, I’ve been terrified for your safety.”

 

Henry sighs and nods. “I get it,” he whispers, and he kisses her. He glances at the clock, gently closes the Bible, and sets it on Maddy’s nightstand. “But we should probably try and get to sleep. It’s been a very, very long day.”

 

Maddy pulls back the covers and waits for Henry to get in. She settles on her side, resting her head on her left hand. “Leave the light on, please,” she whispers.

 

Henry nods, even though he knows she can’t see him, lies down on his side, and wraps his right arm around Maddy’s waist. He presses a kiss to her shoulder, moving his lips up her shoulder to her neck, from her neck to her cheek, and from her cheek to her head. “Thank God you’re safe,” he whispers to her. “Thank the Lord that you’re okay.”

 

Maddy scoots back toward him, so that her back presses against his chest and she can feel every breath he takes. She grabs his hand and laces her fingers through his. “She was a lot stronger than she looked, I’m not gonna lie.”

 

Henry chuckles, and the movement of his chest is soothing to Maddy. “Shawn told us you socked her in the eye.”

 

Maddy hums smugly. “That I did.” She sighs. “You know neither of us are going to get any sleep; why don’t we just head downstairs and see if anything good is on television?”

 

Henry presses another kiss to Maddy’s collarbone. “Two reasons: 1) this is extremely comfortable, and I’m not moving anytime soon, and secondly,” Henry nods toward Shawn’s room, “what happens if Shawn has a nightmare and we’re not right across the hall from him? I mean, sure, we’ll hear him, and we’ll come running, but that’s going to spark a panic attack that will take a long time to help him get over.”

 

Maddy lifts Henry’s hand and presses her lips to the rough skin of his hand. “You have a point.” She licks her lips. “It’s just…Henry, are we always going to be facing this? Are we always going to be at risk? You and Shawn and me?” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Because if that’s the case, I just don’t know if I can do it anymore.”

 

Henry moves his left arm from around Maddy’s shoulders to brush some hair away from her neck. “I can put in for a transfer, but there’s no guarantee, and there’s always going to be crime, no matter where we go.” He kisses her neck and closes his eyes. “But I’ll protect you both. No matter what, even if it means my own life, I will always protect you and Shawn. I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me most.”

 

Maddy runs her fingers up and down Henry’s forearm. “You don’t know what it was like, waking up in that chair in the middle of that apartment. Yes, I was scared for myself, and I had no idea how much time she was going to give you, or if she was going to blow up the bomb as soon as you got inside, but I was so terrified for Shawn. I didn’t know if she had kidnapped him, too, and taken him somewhere else, or if she’d already killed him. The only other person who was with me for two straight hours was  _ her, _ and all she talked about was how she deserved you.”

 

Henry pulls Maddy closer, as if that was even possible. “I’m so sorry, Madeleine.”

 

Maddy rolls over so that she’s face to face with Henry, and she reaches to cup his cheek. Before her hand can touch his face, Henry unconsciously flinches away, and Maddy stares at him in wide-eyed shock, her hand frozen in the air.

 

Henry clears his throat. “Sorry,” he whispers. “It’s just…Yang kept touching me, and she draped her arms around my neck and touched my cheek, and I know it’s  _ you,  _ it’s just that– it’s just that, since Yang did it, too, and she  _ kidnapped _ you and –” Henry licks his lips and blinks back tears.

 

Maddy’s face falls, but before she can pull her hand away, Henry leans into her touch.

 

He smiles. “I know it’s you, and that’s enough for me, but…if I ever flinch away, just know it’s because I remembered her. Nothing that you did wrong, just that I need to constantly remind myself that it’s you.”

 

Maddy nods and leans forward, pressing her lips to Henry’s. His lips are soft, and they move slowly against hers, like he wants this moment to last forever, like he wants her confirmation that she’s okay. His lips taste like rain and tears, and she knows how protective he is of her now, notices the way his arm wraps around her, pulling her closer, as if just by his presence, he can ward off evil. She kisses him back and tries to tell him everything, even the things she’s too afraid to say just yet.

 

“Stop! No, stop! Don’t hurt them!”

 

Maddy and Henry immediately pull away from each other, throw back the covers, and sprint for Shawn’s room. Henry practically busts Shawn’s door down, Maddy barely reminding him in time that it’s ajar.

 

The moonlight still shines on Shawn, and Shawn is curled into a little ball. His shoulders heave with sobs, and he trembles from head to foot. His screaming has stopped, but based on the way Shawn’s chest rises and falls irregularly, he’s about to go into another fit.

 

Henry points to the close side of Shawn’s bed. “When he wakes up, he’s going to be close to a panic attack. He’ll need to see you first.” Henry sits on the far side of Shawn’s bed, and he leans over, about to wake Shawn up, when Shawn rolls over onto his back, his back arches, and he screams again.

 

“Stop!” The single word that tears from Shawn’s throat is so raw, and tears squeeze out of his closed eyes. He throws up his arms, protecting the rest of his body. “Leave them alone!”

 

Henry reaches out to wake Shawn, now desperate to stop the terror in Shawn’s voice, but Maddy holds out a hand to stop him. “No,” she says, and her heart breaks when she tells her husband. “We have to wait it out, or it’s only going to make it worse for him later on.”

 

Henry gestures emphatically at their son, who writhes in his bed. “Look at him, Mad!”

 

She nods and places a placating hand on Henry’s arm. “I know,” she whispers, and Henry can hear the pain in her voice. “But he was trying to be brave all day for you. This is his brain’s way of dealing with the events. After the dream ends, he’ll be able to deal with it verbally.”

 

Henry looks from Maddy back to his son and draws in a shaky breath. “This sucks.”

 

“I know.”

 

Shawn throws out his arm, hitting Henry’s elbow. “Leave them  _ alone!” _ he screams. A sob tears from his throat. “Please, leave them alone.” A moment of silence passes, and Henry’s sure that the dream has passed, but Shawn screams, and it’s a real scream, a scream full of guilt and fear and grief.

 

Maddy turns on the light.

 

Henry reaches to wake Shawn up.

 

“No, not my dad,” Shawn sobs. “Don’t hurt my dad.”

 

Henry freezes and glances frantically at Maddy. She returns the look and shakes Shawn awake. “Shawn? Shawn, honey, your father and I need you to wake up.”

 

Shawn’s eyes snap open, and he looks around wildly before his eyes settle on his father. “Daddy!” he shouts. Tears well up in his eyes, but Henry can tell that they’re tears of relief, and Shawn’s pushing himself up and throwing his arms around Henry’s neck and crying into Henry’s shoulder, and it’s all Henry can do to hold his trembling son and rub his back soothingly.

 

Maddy scoots closer to her two boys and cups Shawn’s head. “Oh, Goose.”

 

Shawn sniffles and tries to talk through his tears. “I-I had a-a dream where-where Y-Yang took D-Dad, and she-she killed h-him!”

 

Henry pulls Shawn closer to him and rests his cheek against Shawn’s head. “I’m right here, son. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Shawn rubs his eyes with his fist. “And sh-she took M-Mom and Gu-Gus, and I was just s-so  _ scared.” _

 

Maddy rubs Shawn’s shoulder. “Do you want ice cream, Goose? Something to help you get your mind off of your nightmare?”

 

Shawn shakes his head. “I just want to go to sleep, but I-I can’t sleep by my-myself.”

 

Henry nods and stands up. “Well, you’re in luck, because your mother and I couldn’t sleep without knowing you were safe.” He takes Shawn to their bedroom, sets him in the middle of the bed and crawls inside the covers. As soon as Maddy is in the bed, she wraps her arms protectively around Shawn and scoots closer to Henry.

 

He wraps his arms around both of them and presses a kiss to each of their foreheads.

 

Maddy and Shawn fall asleep almost instantly, Shawn because the stress of the day wore him out so much, and Maddy because her concussion finally caught up with her. Henry smiles softly and memorizes their faces, hoping that this good memory will be enough to push the rest of today out of his mind.

 

He settles back into his bed, stares at his family, and whispers Psalm 23 as if it’s a mantra.

 

_ The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in need. _

**_Thank you for keeping my family safe, Lord._ **

_ He makes me lie in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters. _

**_Thank you for letting them sleep peacefully._ **

_ Yea, even though I walk through the dark valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear _

**_I was terrified today, God. Absolutely terrified, but you delivered us._ **

_ For You are close by me. _

 

_ I will not fear, for You are close by me. _

**_Protect my family, God. Keep them safe. Let them sleep._ **

 

He finally closes his eyes, turning onto his side, and reaches out for his wife. Even in her sleep, she squeezes his hand.

 

_ I’m alright, Henry. _

 

He squeezes back.

 

_ I love you. _

 

Tomorrow’s going to be a good day. He’ll make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can try and tear Christian!Spencers from my cold, dead hands, and I still won't give it up.

**Author's Note:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Leave a comment below or go to my tumblr, @ my-glasses-are-dirty, and tell me what you think!


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